"It was somewhere between wise man's words and old man's tales that my search for Eldorado began. We all know that no place of such perfection exists here on earth, but if it did I think for a certain group of anglers, it would be much like a long passed October afternoon.

The sun smiled down on us as we perused a seemingly endless hoard of salmon on their reproductive mission, while Sea gulls cried out like prophets to a generation of yet unborn denizens of the deep. We watched as fish after fish pitched and rolled before us, with the trees dressed in all their autumn finery standing witness. For an all too short a juncture, time seemed to stand still as rods jerked, reels screamed, and fish of colossal size took flight. At the end of the day, as the sun set in hues of violet and rose; I thought to myself, what a perfect place in time this had been for a water weary fly chucker and his charge of ardent young adventurers."

The above peace is one I wrote to go along with the Terry Fox Fly Fishing Club photo, for their school annual in 1998. We have been talking about establishing memories, traditions, and legacies. In the school based fly fishing clubs I coordinated, our first outing each school year entailed Chum salmon fishing on the first province wide professional day. Some would look down on the humble Chum, but for a kid who has never caught any fish longer than eight inches, or no fish at all, each Chum was a milestone in their memory. Traditions are things we do, talk about later, and remember for a life time.